


Arthur's Arabians

by whyyouacknsocraycray



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Chapter 3: Clemens Point (Red Dead Redemption 2), Chapter 4: Saint Denis (Red Dead Redemption 2), Everybody Lives, Fix-It, Gen, Horses, Humor, Protective Hosea Matthews, Treasure Hunting, except micah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyouacknsocraycray/pseuds/whyyouacknsocraycray
Summary: In which Arthur finds four free Arabians, a whole lot of gold, and saves the gang!
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Van der Linde Gang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Arthur's Arabians

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this barely edited, hastily written, probably should have written 7000 words for my main story, totally not serious fix-it based on a plot point I abandoned in _Toil and Trouble_.
> 
>  **Spoilers** for the majority of the treasure maps and up to Chapter 4.

Arthur Morgan had never wanted to return to the freezing expanses of Colter again after the gang escaped the mountains and made their journey to Horseshoe Overlook. The crumbling buildings and icy wind promised the cold embrace of death, and the land was covered in more graves than houses. Even the last inhabitants, that poor rancher and his wife, Mrs. Adler, were gone. Mr. Adler may have survived the snow, but death came in many forms.

But after Hosea gave him a map indicating an albino bison was near Lake Isabella and an author named Theodore Levin gave him a list of gunslingers to interview, including Flaco Hernandez who had last been seen near Colter, Arthur realized it might be worth returning. Then on top of all that, a supposedly famous fisherman gave him another map that listed the area being known for large sockeye salmon, not that Arthur was going to catch it being such a poor fisherman. So, with some trepidation, Arthur resigned himself for returning and packed for his trip, ensuring he had enough hay for his newly acquired Tennessee Walker and plenty of meat for himself.

He wasn’t sure what to think of his new horse. He liked the Tennessee Walker well enough, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the horse had once belonged to Jake Adler. Sadie Adler denied it, saying the horse must have belonged to an O’Driscoll, but the barn had a stall and supplies for one. And there was no way the couple could have survived up there without a horse! Maybe once he got back from his trip, he’d ask again.

The horse certainly seemed comfortable and familiar with the mountain paths, even in the areas where the snow was over a foot deep. He trudged through, making good time up the mountains despite a short stop at Barrow Lake, where he recognized the fallen tree bridge from one of his treasure maps. On his way to rescue Micah from jail, he’d robbed a man of his map and found its next clue at Cumberland Falls. He collected another map, then made the quick trip to Flaco Hernandez’s cabin, where the man immediately tried to gun him down.

“Should have seen that one coming,” Arthur muttered to himself as he took the dead gunslinger’s picture. Still, he found some money and yet another treasure map as he ransacked the cabin, so perhaps if he found a rock that looked like a face, he’d be rich! It was the third series of treasure maps he’d found, though he’d yet to find the gold at the end of any of them. The Jack Hall gang map led him to Caliban’s Seat, but he didn’t recognize the next clue.

Fortunately, the wind wasn’t too strong as he made his way back to Lake Isabella and set up camp, though the cold did keep sleep from coming. After tossing and turning for several hours, he got up, thinking he could do a little night fishing.

That’s when he saw her, her pure white coat reflecting in the light of full moon. At first, his mind jumped to the bison, and he grabbed his scoped rifle. But he quickly realized it was a horse, an Arabian if he was seeing the dished face correctly.

She looked bony, thin. She pawed at the snow, trying to reach what little vegetation still remained underneath. Grabbing a few oatcakes from his saddlebag, Arthur approached slowly and carefully.

“Hey, girl,” he said. The mare perked up, dancing nervously when she spotted him. “Hey, it’s okay. Not going to hurt you, just thought you might be hungry.” He held the oatcake flat in his hand, and her ears twitched forward. Arthur kept up the soothing words as he approached, hand out, until he was close enough that the Arabian could snatch the oatcake out of his hand.

“You want another?” asked Arthur, pulling out another oatcake. This time, he got close enough to pat her shoulder. Still, she eyed him, and for good reason. Once she seemed calm enough, Arthur placed his hands on her back and vaulted on without hesitation.

The Arabian let out a loud, high-pitched cry that echoed off the surrounding mountains. Her thin appearance hid enormous strength and stamina, and Arthur was forced to hold onto chunks of her mane to keep her from bucking him off. “Whoa, easy now, whoa!” he called out, trying to calm her down, but it was useless. He just had to keep holding on until she inevitably gave up.

Finally, she tired. “Good girl, easy,” he soothed, petting her neck and giving her the last oatcake. While still on her back, he fashioned a halter out of his lasso before finally giving her a break. He hitched her next to the Tennessee Walker, brushed her down, gave her water, and settled in for the night.

When he woke the next morning, Arthur was pleased to find that the Arabian hadn’t chewed through the rope and run off. She certainly seemed stronger after some good food the night before, but she needed to get out of the snow.

“Guess I’ll have to come back for that bison another time,” Arthur said, mounting the Tennessee Walker and encouraging the Arabian to follow with a tug of the rope.

* * *

“Who’s there?” Javier called as he made his way through the trees.

“Just me,” Arthur said.

“Where did you find that horse! She’s beautiful!” Javier said.

“Up near Colter, actually.”

“You saw her in the snow?”

“Almost didn’t, but her coat was shining in the moonlight. Complete luck. She’s still a little skittish, you might need to offer her some food,” he said as Javier reached out to pet her neck.

“I can see that.” Javier pulled a peppermint from his pocket, which enticed her over. “Amazing. Her coat as bright as a full moon. _La luna_. You have a name for her yet?”

“Not yet,” Arthur said.

“Luna would be perfect for her. It’s Spanish for moon.”

“Luna, huh? I like it. Suits her nicely.”

A loud, piercing whinny interrupted their conversation as The Count, Dutch’s albino Arabian, trotted over with his head held high. Javier laughed. “I think he knows there is a new lady in town, another Arabian like himself, too.”

“Get outta here!” Arthur yelled at him, shooing him with his arms. “Don’t be messing with the fillies! You know better!”

The stallion snorted, but acquiesced. Still, he kept Luna in his eye as Arthur led her to the hitching post.

Over the next few days, Arthur began working Luna under saddle and taking short hunting trips with her. Luna, still wild at heart, seemed to take great pleasure in dumping Arthur on the ground for such little incidences of a squirrel jumping in front of her path or a branch breaking in the wind. Arthur laughed it off each time, though he made sure to take his Tennessee Walker over to West Elizabeth to do that stagecoach job with Micah. He wasn’t sure how Luna would react to gunfire just yet.

It was on a nice, sunny morning that Hosea was watching Arthur work with his new horse. He knew his son was avoiding reading the letter on his nightstand, the one from that Mary Gillis, by brushing and cooing over his new mare. That’s why he was rather short with Herr Strauss when the man interrupted Arthur by asking him to go after a debtor.

“Why don’t you send one of the other boys out,” Hosea said. “Arthur’s been working almost every job that’s come up.” That much was true, Arthur had been working himself to the bone since Blackwater. Hosea hadn’t seen Arthur smile so wide and his eyes so bright in a long time, and he knew Strauss’ requests would cause his joy to disappear. Was he being selfish? Maybe, but he spoke anyway. “Send Mr. Bell, all he’s done lately is get himself arrested.”

“Oh, alright,” Strauss said, and scurried off to find Micah. Hosea noticed that Strauss caught Micah right next to Dutch, meaning he couldn’t refuse.

“Thanks, Hosea,” Arthur said.

“You deserve a day off once in a while, Arthur,” Hosea said, patting him on the shoulder.

Of course, Arthur spent his day off chasing down Jaime Gillis for Mary and saving him from himself, but despite the awkwardness and bittersweet reunion with his once fiancé, Arthur had to be proud of Luna. She ran fast, responded well to the quick turns, and even accepted a second rider on her back. And, most importantly, she barely flinched when he was forced to fire his gun.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he praised, feeding her carrots on the ride back. Really, she was ready to be his mount full time. So, when he got back to camp, he approached Sadie Adler.

“Mrs. Adler,” he began. “Now, I know you said the Tennessee Walker wasn’t yours-“

“He isn’t.”

“But he was on your property. If you want to sell him, buy yourself a horse you want, then you can.”

She hesitated, then said, “He was my husband’s. He loved Jake, that horse. Didn’t like me as much.”

“I can take him to Valentine for you,” Arthur offered. “The stable owner there is a good man, he’ll take good care of him. Find him a good home.”

“I’d like that. Thank you, Arthur,” she said.

Arthur didn’t get much for the horse given the missing paperwork, but he gave the money to a grateful Mrs. Adler when he returned.

* * *

He was out near Lake Owanjila on another hunting trip, mainly beavers but also keeping an eye out for bears and the magnificent white and brown buck described in Hosea’s map. But he quickly got distracted by a man looking for weird rock carvings, and then he found yet another treasure map on that strange obelisk, and he definitely didn’t have any meat for Mr. Pearson when he inevitably returned to camp.

Not that he was avoiding camp. But recently on Marston’s train robbery, the law showed up too fast. Arthur didn’t want to believe someone had ratted on the job, but considering that and how the Pinkertons had found him and Jack down by the river, Arthur had suggested moving camp. Dutch reacted badly, arguing that they were fine and couldn’t cower under the lengthy reach of the government, and Arthur decided to duck out of camp for a few days.

When he spotted her in his binoculars, he couldn’t believe his eyes! There was another Arabian mare, this one a red chestnut, grazing without a care in the world. He just had to catch her, it felt like destiny.

“Hey, girl,” he said, calling her to him. Unlike Luna, this Arabian wouldn’t be intrigued with food. She looked well fed, unsurprising given the wide hills of grass. Arthur had to go slowly, cautiously. The Arabian let him closer, even if the pinned ears betrayed her true feelings about him.

When he mounted her, she put up an enormous fight. She bucked and reared and galloped from one end of the field to the other. But he won her over, with soothing words and his desperate grip around her sides. She reluctantly allowed herself to be led back to his campsite along the lake shore.

With the extra mount, Arthur was able to hunt for more pelts. He shot a bear, caught a humongous fish in Lake Owanjila, found the buck, and even got a cougar, though both his new Arabians ran off the second they sensed it in the trees. But he was also able to train up the new Arabian a little, and he proudly rode the horse back into camp at the end of the week.

“Another one?” Hosea asked, who was standing guard duty this time.

“Yeah, found her near Big Valley.”

“What a nice red color. You name her?”

“No, you know I’m terrible at coming up with names for horses.” It was true. Arthur’s first horse, a dark bay thoroughbred, had gone nameless for several days. Finally, Dutch had suggested Boadicea from one of his Roman history books, and the name stuck.

“Well, you need something that goes along with that coat,” Hosea said. “What about Dahlia? I remember seeing a bunch of beautiful, red dahlias while traveling with Bessie.”

“Dahlia, huh? I like it,” Arthur replied, giving the horse a scratch along the neck. “You like that, girl?”

Dahlia didn’t seem to disagree with the name, so Arthur took that as a win.

Arthur spent the next few days working more with Dahlia than Luna, though Dahlia was a little better tempered. He rode her as his main horse on a robbery with Javier north of Valentine, and even back into Colter for the bison and the salmon. Luna came on both trips, mostly to help carry the pelts.

When he returned to camp, John invited him on a job in Valentine involving rustling sheep. They were chased out by Cornwall’s men and a whole lot of bullets.

* * *

Their new camp in Clemens Point, Lemoyne was situated along Flat Iron Lake, and the access to the water was the only redeeming part of it. The heat was bad, the humidity worse. Arthur swore he was sweating through his shirt the second he put it on, and the horses weren’t faring any better. Most of them, anyway. Arthur’s two Arabians and The Count seemed fine with the hot sun.

On top of that, there was a militia trying to rob and kill them on the road. They were no match for Sadie Adler, however, who was surprisingly ruthless. She’d finally bought a horse, a gorgeous Turkoman that certainly cost more than the Tennessee Walker, though Arthur had a sneaking suspicion she didn’t pay for him.

But a dog did wander into camp, so that was good. Dutch named him Cain, and he was Jack’s new best friend.

It shouldn’t have surprised anyone when Arthur’s discomfort turned to restlessness. Within days, he’d explored most of the area around Rhodes and even some of the bayou, where he found the tiny church in his obelisk map. Though he had no idea what to do about the picture of a turtle he got out of that one. The only turtles he knew about were the Chelonians, and he doubted that any of them were sitting on a mountain of treasure. Temporarily stumped, he jumped on any job he could find, including stealing some moonshine as a Rhodes deputy and hunting down Josiah Trelawny. It was on one of these trips that he discovered the face rock and yet another clue, though Sean seemed pretty excited about the idea of a treasure hunt and practically begged Arthur to take him out searching for something in the landscape that looked like a snake. Arthur told him to focus on the house robbery, the one that Sean himself had found. They made good money at the house, and Arthur found himself a nice double-action revolver, but still the kid insisted on a treasure hunt.

“How about this,” Arthur sighed. “You keep a lookout for this snake thing, and if you find it, we’ll split the take like it’s a job. Half to the gang, we split the other half.”

“Deal! Just you wait, ol’ Morgan! Soon, you and I will be rich!”

Naturally, Sean spent several days at a time out of camp looking for the described landmark. Arthur even had to draw him a copy of the map because he kept forgetting. It was probably a good thing he had an extra set of eyes out looking, considering he now had four different trails he was following around the countryside.

Arthur also spent days out of Lemoyne. He’d been looking over one of his maps, and the background seemed to be a fort. He only knew of one such location, Fort Wallace. And a few big animals were up that way, too, a huge wolf and elk, so if his lead turned out to be false, the trip wouldn’t be a waste. He saddled up Dahlia, with Luna trailing obediently behind, and made his way up towards Bacchus Station. His first stop, the cliffs next to Fort Wallace.

And he almost died.

“Shit, shit shit!” Arthur shouted as he began to slip on the rocks, falling heavily onto the next ledge. The solid landing forced all the air from his lungs, but he didn’t roll off the edge. He took a moment, eyes closed, breathing deep and slow.

He opened them to a rock carving, and laughed. “I hope you appreciate this, Francis Sinclair.”

Arthur’s second run up the incline went better, and he was able to make his way through the winding path to a crevice in the rock. He reached in, hoping that it wasn’t just another map, and found something solid. He pulled out one, two, three gold bars! Finally, his searching and near demise had yielded results, and worthwhile ones, too. He stashed the bars in his satchel and made his way back to safer ground.

He whistled for his horses, and was pleased at how quickly Dahlia responded alongside Luna. Together, they made their way up towards Bacchus Station in search of the elk. Several hours passed as he scoured the hills and rocks, but finally a tree rubbing gave him a trail.

A trail that led right to a mysterious house built into the the hillside, with a turtle painted on top.

“No way,” he said, pulling out his map. The drawn turtle had a hole in the side with a wooden plank over it, and this house had a half-boarded up window, too. Forgetting the elk for a moment, he climbed up the house and reached inside the window, pulling another piece of paper free. This one had a canon and a tree drawn on it, and his eyes widened. A battle field. Just like the one Beau Gray took him too after he helped Penelope Braithwaite at the women’s suffrage rally. “No, it can’t be that easy,” he said, laughing.

Turns out, it was that easy. After he put the map away and found the elk, he camped for the night. The next morning, he went after the wolf, found the geysers described in the Jack Hall gang map and immediately recognized the Three Sisters near O’Creagh’s Run. After unsuccessfully searching for the wolf, he took a break to explore the area a bit, since he hadn’t been up that way before.

Riding along the train tracks near Cotorra Springs, Arthur was surprised when he looked down off a bridge and spotted the remnants of a train that had tumbled over the edge. Naturally, he had to check it out. Trains tended to carry some good items, and if this one hadn’t been looted yet, he could walk out with some decent stuff.

And he did. There was some jewelry in one car, and two more gold bars.

Dutch was going to be pleased when he brought these back.

But not yet. He still wanted to give that wolf another go, and he hadn’t explored much around Calumet Ravine. He set up camp for the night, and near dawn the next morning he was able to find the huge wolf.

He was just riding around behind the Wapiti Reservation when he spotted a wild horse. No one in camp was going to believe him after this trip.

* * *

His newest mare was a Warped Brindle Arabian, and skittish as a rabbit. A rabbit with strong legs and sharp hooves. He narrowly avoided a kick to the head the first time she threw him, and made sure to duck his head better on the second. The third time he managed to stay on her back, barely, but he didn’t feel confident riding her back to Clemens Point.

On the way back, he made sure to swing by O’Creagh’s Run and pick up two more gold bars, bringing his total up to seven. He stopped by Seamus at Emerald Ranch to figure out how he could cash them all in, and couldn’t believe his eyes that Seamus had three thousand five hundred dollars on his person and hadn’t left his horrible ranch job. Maybe he and Hosea should have robbed Seamus himself instead of his cousin.

Speaking of Hosea, Arthur saw him on guard duty as he rode back in on Luna, saddlebags weighed down with cash. Before Arthur went on his trip, he and Hosea had gotten rid of the Braithwaite moonshine in the Gray saloon, and almost got killed by Lemoyne Raiders.

“When is shift change?” Arthur asked him.

“I just got on, why?”

“Damn, I had something I wanted to show both you and Dutch.”

“Is it another Arabian? I can clearly see that,” Hosea laughed.

“Not just her,” Arthur said, and he pulled the stacks of cash out of his satchel. Hosea’s eyes widened, trying to calculate how much it could be, but Arthur answered the unasked question. “It’s over three thousand.”

“Arthur, how?”

“I had a few treasure maps, found some gold bars. I have two other trails to follow, too. One I know where to start looking. The other, Sean found out about and is looking around for.”

“So that’s where Sean has been disappearing to. And here I was going to invite him to tea with the Braithwaite woman to see if they had any jobs for us. Maybe that’s not necessary. This money will certainly put us well on the way to our goal, but…” Hosea trailed off, looking thoughtful.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“I’m worried about Dutch,” Hosea said carefully. “He just keeps pushing and pushing for more money, more jobs. With this, we could truly lie low and plan, but I know Dutch. He won’t want to do that. This thing with the two families… I’m not so sure about it. Trelawny voiced some concerns.”

“Yeah, Trelawny did say the town was small. But should we really keep this from him?”

“Not forever, just temporarily hold onto the cash. Once things are a little more settled and we have a solid plan of how we are getting out of this mess, we’ll tell Dutch. And it not, well, it makes for a decent backup plan. Should things go wrong.”

“Okay. I trust you, Hosea.” Arthur stuffed the cash back into his saddlebag. “What’s this job with the Braithwaites, then?”

“Not sure yet. I figured I would return the rest of the moonshine and see what happens. But I did want to bring backup. Who is the worse choice, Micah or Bill?”

“They’re both bad. Why them?”

“Dutch wants John and Javier to work with the Gray family, and I can’t imagine we would make progress with the Braithwaites if I took Charles or Lenny.”

“Damn racist bastards,” Arthur muttered.

“Like I said, I was going to bring Sean.”

“As much as I hate sending you off with Micah, Bill is unfortunately a deputy.”

“So are you, and I was hoping you could join us.”

“Sure, but do you trust Bill to keep secrets from both these families at once?”

“Fine,” Hosea said. “Micah it is. God help me. You free tomorrow?”

“I can be,” Arthur laughed, patting him on the shoulder as he made his way into camp.

“Hey, Dutch!” he called out. “Guess what? Found another one!”

“Arthur!” Dutch called out, booming laughter echoing around the camp. “Forget Tahiti and mangoes, we should start an Arabian breeding farm!” he joked.

“She’s a wild one, that’s for sure. You got any good names?”

“Let’s see. How about Zenobia? Queen Zenobia invaded parts of the Roman empire long ago, nearly overtook a good portion of it.”

“I think it suits her,” Arthur replied. “I bet we can sell her foals for more if they come out with brindle coats.”

It would have been nice, however, if The Count understood it was a joke.

Unknown to Arthur, Dahlia had gone into heat during their trip, and Luna, finally adjusted to the warmer weather, followed soon after. The Count immediately began bothering the two mares, forcing Kieran to tie him to a tree a little out of camp. But that didn’t stop the stallion from calling out to his ladies at all hours, even overnight.

Arthur slept with a pillow folded over his ears to block out the shrill whinnies and the gang’s complaining, not that it helped. Around three in the morning, Dutch stumbled over and said, “I think you need to put your mares in a stable.”

“Maybe it’s time we got your horse’s balls clipped,” Arthur grumbled. “It’s him making all the noise.”

“You know The Count wasn’t a problem before this,” Dutch yawned.

The next morning, Arthur dropped Luna and Dahlia off at the Scarlett Meadows Stable. Both mares were comfortable enough with people now that Arthur knew they would behave. Zen, on the other hand, was a work in progress.

Zenobia hated people, gunshots, predators, particularly loud prey… a whole assortment of items. She made Luna seems like a dream horse with the number of times she threw him or spooked at something benign. But Arthur stuck with her. After all, he had to admit that she had spirit.

The breeding farm idea intrigued him, though. It was much more enticing than dreams of a tropical island where they grew fruit or whatever the fuck a mango was. He mentioned it to Hosea on the wagon to the Braithwaite place, whispering so that Micah wouldn’t hear as they made their way with the last of the moonshine as a peace offering.

Unfortunately, the day ended with Zenobia running off as soon as Arthur and Micah set the Gray tobacco farm ablaze, on Catherine Braithwaite’s orders. Fire was on her list of things she hated, and rightly so. The smoke filled the air, burning Arthur’s eyes and lungs. And the Gray’s guards were pouring out of houses all around them.

“There they are! I got the one with the white hat!” a guard yelled, referring to Micah’s choice of headgear.

“Goddammit, Micah, we need to move!” Arthur added, but Micah simply cackled and kept shooting the Grays.

“This way, Morgan,” he said. “That wagon with payroll was parked up here.”

“I hope the horses are still there,” Arthur replied, following him. It was, unfortunately, their best option at the moment. They somehow made it down the long paths between the inferno to the wagon, and the two terrified Shires were still attached. Arthur freed them, holding the reins while Micah searched the wagon for money. Finally, he mounted up, and they escaped somehow without major burns, though Arthur swore his eyebrows were singed. 

Once they put some distance between themselves and the burning tobacco, Arthur slowed his Shire. “How much payroll was there?” Arthur asked.

“A couple hundred, not too bad,” Micah said, throwing Arthur his share. He opened his mouth to say more, but he descending into a coughing fit.

“You alright?” Arthur asked, more out of obligation than genuine concern.

“I’m fine, cowpoke. Fit as a fiddle.”

“Yeah, sure sounds like it,” Arthur said sarcastically. Micah didn’t respond, just turning his horse back to camp. Arthur took the long way around so as to not talk to him.

He approached Dutch and Hosea as soon as he returned to inform him about the job. “So, he can find horses that aren’t Arabians!” Dutch joked.

“Apparently so. He’s a good wagon horse, if we need another.”

“Might as well.”

“So, we burned the Gray’s tobacco fields…” Arthur started to say, when he got distracted. There was Zenobia, walking out of the trees and back to him. “Hey girl, you came back!”

“She’s turning into a good one, Arthur,” Hosea said. “Perfect for our breeding farm, right Dutch?”

“Right!” Dutch smiled. “Speaking of horses, the Gray family mentioned something about the Braithwaite horses the other day. John and Javier are going over there today.”

“I don’t know, Dutch. We just burned their fields.”

“I doubt they spotted you. You are the best of us, Arthur. I’m counting on you.”

“Right,” Arthur said. Still, he was beginning to doubt the wisdom in Dutch’s decision making. And based on the look on Hosea’s face, the older man felt the same.

* * *

Tavish Gray, patriarch of the Gray family, wanted revenge for their torched tobacco fields. He told John the Braithwaite’s prize thoroughbred horses, and swore they would be worth five thousand dollars. Arthur certainly doubted they would get that exact amount from a smuggler, but anything close to that would have been fantastic.

They got seven hundred.

Surprisingly, the stallions weren’t actually thoroughbreds, rather they were two Arabians and one Turkoman. He told Dutch all this after the fact. “You know, it’s too bad those Arabians were branded,” Arthur said. “They would have made excellent studs for our breeding farm.”

“Yes, that would be a little hard to explain,” Dutch replied.

“I ain’t so sure about these families, Dutch,” Arthur said carefully. “I think they’re just using us, instead of us using them.”

“We just need to keep them pitted against each other while we track down this gold,” Dutch said confidently.

Arthur knew the three stallions were worth a lot more than what they got, and the Clay and Clive would sell them for a whole lot more once they fudged the paperwork. It seemed everyone was just using them, lately. But meeting Clay and Clive gave him an idea.

He collected Luna and Dahlia from the stable and brought them over to Clay. “You looking to sell?” the smuggler asked.

“Actually, I was hoping you might be able to make legit paperwork for these three. I’m thinking of breeding them with a friend’s Arabian stallion, so I guess I need proof of ownership.”

“And breed certification, if you want to sell foals as purebreds. I can do that, but it will cost you a pretty penny.”

“Guess it depends on how much then.”

Clay and Arthur negotiated a price for the paperwork, and Arthur also described The Count to get those drawn up, too. But he didn’t tell Dutch, yet.

The Grays and Braithwaites stopped calling on the gang to do their dirty work for a bit, probably trying to recover from their recent financial disasters. Arthur was able to steal some guns from the Lemoyne Raiders with Lenny and rob the bank in Valentine with Bill, Lenny, and Karen. They stole twenty thousand dollars, giving Arthur a two thousand five hundred dollar cut. He added it to his stash from the treasure maps, and went searching in Bolger Glade for more, but only found a map of a lone mountain, with a sun and clock drawn on it as well. He wasn’t quite sure what the sun and clock meant, but Mount Shann certainly fit the lone mountain description.

Then, one day, Sean came back.

“I found it, English!” he called out. “I found the snake mound!” In his hands was another rolled up map, one with a location Arthur actually recognized.

“This is the waterfall at Elysian Pool!” Arthur said.

“Damn, I was just up that way,” Sean said. “Well, what are you waiting for, let’s go!”

Did Arthur and Sean almost slip and fall to their deaths in the cave? Yes. Were they about to admit it to anyone else? No. But Arthur and Sean emerged victorious with four gold bars.

“I bet we can sell these for a couple hundred each!” Sean said, looking over the bar.

“I know someone who will give us five hundred,” said Arthur. “Though, uh, I should tell you something.”

“What?”

“Hosea has been starting a bit of a secret savings. Just a backup in case something goes wrong. You can still have your share, but I’m putting the rest there. Hosea doesn’t want Dutch to know.”

“Keeping secrets from our fearless leader, huh?” Sean said. “Alright, if that’s what Mr. Matthews wants, I won’t say a word.”

“Thank you.”

They parted ways. Even though he was pretty far away, Arthur wanted to check out Mount Shann. And it was nice to bond with Zenobia on a long trip. She still spooked easily and hated other people getting too close. She tolerated Kieran, and sometimes Charles, but no one else.

But she was so strong. She powered up the mountain, and enjoyed the solitude up there. She stood calmly as Arthur scanned the area of anything out of the ordinary before making his way up to an odd rock sticking vertically out of the ground. It was a sundial, and now the clock on the map made sense!

He felt silly, sitting on the frosty ground and laughing, but he had six gold bars in front of him.

* * *

“You seem happy,” Charles said when they were eating breakfast around the camp fire.

“I’m feeling good after that bank robbery,” Arthur explained. It was true, but it wasn’t the main reason. Arthur had ten thousand dollars saved up. He decided to keep five hundred for camp supplies and personal expenses, so everyone was enjoying slightly better food.

“We’re one step closer to getting out of here,” Charles said.

“That we are. Though who knows how much money it takes to get a boat to paradise.”

“How are your horses?”

“They’re doing fine. Zen didn’t spook too bad at the gunshots on our hunt yesterday.”

“Good. We should go on a hunt together sometime.”

“Sounds good.” He was about to suggest they go that day, but he noticed that Micah was hanging around Dutch’s tent like a bad smell. “Now what is he up to?”

Arthur and Dutch listened to Micah explain his grand plan for peace with the O’Driscolls, and for whatever reason, Dutch agreed to go with Arthur as lookout. The three mounted up and rode out.

Only two came back.

“Where’s Arthur?” Hosea asked Dutch. While Arthur did disappear for days at a time, he always came back after a job.

“Off gallivanting, as usual,” Dutch said, completely relaxed. It put Hosea at ease. He assumed, after all, that Dutch had seen Arthur after the meeting. “Hey, how much do you want to bet he’ll come back with another Arabian?”

But he didn’t come back with another Arabian. He came back draped over Zenobia with a hole in his shoulder.

* * *

“It-It’s a trap.”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“D-Dutch? He can’t-”

“He’s safe, I promise. You made it home, Arthur.”

“No, no, no…”

Hosea dunked a new cloth in a bucket of cold water and replaced the one on Arthur’s forehead. They needed to get his fever down, or… Hosea wasn’t going to consider a different outcome other than Arthur’s recovery.

“How is he?” Dutch asked, keeping a bit of distance between himself and a furious Hosea.

Hosea chose not to answer, instead lashing out with, “You should have told me he didn’t meet you after.”

“Hosea-”

“You should have known something was wrong!”

“I didn’t think-”

“No! You didn’t! All your fucking planning and your grand ideas… sometimes I think they are nothing more than delusions!”

“Delusions?” Dutch said, taken aback.

“Yes, delusions! Tahiti, Dutch? Mangoes?”

Dutch sputtered, “We can do it, we just need-”

“More money, I know. How much? Give me a real number, an actual goal.”

“I don’t know-”

“See? Delusions!” Hosea snapped. He brushed his fingers through Arthur’s sweaty hair. Arthur whimpered, but leaned into his hand. “Arthur and I have been working on a plan, Dutch, a good one. We once dreamed of a ranch, and we can do it.”

“How? We haven’t saved enough.”

“Arthur and I have been saving on the side. He got legit papers for his horses, and The Count, too. Let’s figure out how to get west, and buy some land. Please, Dutch! Because if you won’t, I’m taking our boys and anyone who’ll join us.”

Dutch was reeling, sputtering random syllables instead of a response.

“Dutch?” Arthur gasped, eyes clenched shut.

“Oh, son,” Dutch said, taking his hand. “Hold on, you need to get better. I know you can pull through this.”

Arthur continued to be trapped in feverish nightmares, crying and calling out, for the rest of the night. Dutch and Hosea stayed with him, trying to keep him calm. And talking with each other, truly talking, for the first time since Blackwater.

Arthur’s fever lingered for a few days, but when it finally broke, Dutch and Hosea were both at his side.

* * *

“You sure you’re ready for a job?” Hosea asked Arthur several weeks later as Arthur saddled up Luna. He’d switched his Arabians again, since Zenobia was finally calm enough to stable. While he’d been laid up, Kieran and Charles had taken care of the exhausted mare, and she accepted that other people were not the enemy.

“I’m ready. My shoulder is as strong as it was. And we need money for our ranch,” he whispered.

The rest of the gang did not know the plan to get west just yet. Dutch simply told them to keep making money from the Grays and Braithwaites. Bill had been working on a security job with the Grays, and asked Micah, Sean, and Arthur to join him. Arthur was to meet them soon in Rhodes.

“How much longer until we leave?” Arthur asked.

“Not much longer. We have the money, we just need to figure out how to get past the bounty hunters in Blackwater. I’m thinking hidden compartments in wagons, get some of our less recognizable family members to drive them. Sadie, Kieran, Mary-Beth, Tilly…”

“We should have some of them drive through there, test the bounty hunters out. Make sure they aren’t searching wagons too hard.”

“Good idea,” said Hosea. “Be careful, son. We’re almost out of here.”

But the Grays knew what they’d been doing. They shot Micah in the head, right through his big, white hat. Arthur wondered if they recognized him, knew that he was the one who burned the tobacco fields.

But he couldn’t linger on that thought. Not that too many folks were upset about Micah’s demise, but no sooner had they decimated one family that they had to go after the other. Arthur returned to camp to find everyone in a panic after Jack was kidnapped by the Braithwaites, and it took burning down the Braithwaite Manor to learn that he was given to a man named Angelo Bronte.

Between the move to Shady Belle and searching Saint Denis for Bronte, Arthur hadn’t slept. He’d asked a few people about the man, but everyone skirted the subject.

It was nearly two in the morning. He had a clue that the kids who hung out in the alleys during the day, so he’d have to try once the sun was up.

“No, please, stop!” a woman shouted down the street. He kicked Luna up to a canter, investigating the noise. A woman and a man were struggling with a thief, trying to push away his gun! Arthur drew his revolver and fired, killing the thief.

“Thank you, sir, thank you!” the man said, and he grabbed the woman by the arm and led her quickly down the street. Arthur was left alone with a body, and a horse hitched nearby. Was that another Arabian?

There was no one on the street to miss her.

Charles, being on guard duty when he got back, got to name her. Cassiopeia, he decided, after the constellation, because her coat was as dark as the night sky.

Unlike his other Arabians, Cassi was already trained. She was sweet, gentle, and listened to him. Together, they found Angelo Bronte and robbed the grave robbers with John. When they returned to Bronte’s, Dutch and Jack were waiting for them.

“You alright son?” John asked Jack, hugging him close.

“I’m fine, Pa.”

Arthur wished it hadn’t taken a kidnapping for John to care for his son, but at least the Marston family was starting to be repaired.

For the first time in weeks, really since the bank robbery in Valentine, they had a reason to celebrate. The whiskey flowed amongst the gang, and John sat happily with Abigail and his son. Arthur was pleasantly buzzed when he saw Kieran sneaking away from camp.

“Where you off to, O’Driscoll?”

“I just… don’t feel like celebrating. It’s my fault they took Jack. I saw those Braithwaite boys and didn’t think anything of it.”

“The boy is fine, Kieran. Stay for the party. I might need you to help move Zen and Dahlia down here from Scarlet Meadows. Zen likes you best.”

“Everyone! Gather round!” Dutch called out. “Hosea and I, and Arthur, we’ve been working on a plan to get back west. Now that we’ve got Jack back, we’re going to try to get through Tall Trees. It might take us a few weeks, and I’m going to need some of you without bounties to test some things, but we believe we can do it.”

“Really? We’re heading west?” Lenny asked.

“Yes, we are! We are going to find some land, and start our ranch. Now, let’s celebrate!”

The next morning, slightly hungover, Arthur and Kieran grabbed the Arabians. They shot some O’Driscolls on the way.

* * *

They bought land in Hennigan’s Stead, a little southeast of another ranch owned by Bonnie McFarland. Hosea wanted to get farther from Blackwater, but when they approached the town of Armadillo and noticed the grassland turning into cacti, they decided against it. Still, they were pretty certain the Pinkertons were still searching for them in Lemoyne. And maybe things would cool down enough for them to go back for the Blackwater money one day, though they were building their ranch decently without it.

Not everyone stayed. Bill Williamson decided he didn’t like ranch life and went deeper into New Austin. They heard rumor about a gang he started, but he never ventured east of Armadillo. Sadie Adler went after the O’Driscoll gang, occasionally with the gang’s help, and after took up bounty hunting. They saw her every few weeks or months, depending on where she was looking for jobs. She also was their eyes and ears for Pinkertons nearby, and was able to report that most lawmen in the area assumed the gang had collapsed and scattered. Sean and Karen would take off at times as well, doing random jobs and exploring the land, and generally keeping out of trouble.

No one missed Micah.

In spring, with their houses, barn, and pastures built, Arthur and Dutch let Luna, Dahlia, Zenobia, and Cassiopeia out with The Count. They had their first foals a year later. Jack absolutely loved the babies, and Arthur took great pride in guiding both him and John into expert ranchers. 

At the end of each day, they would all retire to the main house for food cooked by Mr. Pearson, the quality somewhat improved from having regular access to a general store, and at the end of the night they would all gather around the fireplace to drink and tell stories, and Cain would curl up at the hearth. Arthur loved every minute of it, his family finally safe.

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> I used to ride horses on a breeding farm. Stallions are loud.
> 
> I was replaying the tobacco burning mission the other day when I heard some guard yell, "I've got the redhead." I also figured that's why they shot Sean first in the ambush, so if you replace him with Micah, Sean lives! Kieran also lives, because he never should have wandered away from the gang.
> 
> Now, Arthur Morgan gets to live his dreams of having all the horses. I hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
